Monthly Archives: September 2005

Just found an excellent interview, the best Young Neil piece I’ve read in a long time.

Check out the interview on the Guardian’s site here,

or, if it’s already been archived there, read on.

******

Neil Young: gifted and back

He’s furious about the war in Iraq, but can see thegood in George Bush. He’s passionate about theenvironment, but drives the biggest gas-guzzler onearth. Edward Helmore meets Neil Young, the mostcontrary man in rock

Published: 22 September 2005

“Welcome to Fortress Blair,” says Neil Young, offeringhis hand. Downstairs, in the lobby of The Carlylehotel, the Prime Minister’s security men have beendemanding to know what kind of black-clad ageinghippie revolutionary they have here. They look as ifthey might put him in a choke-hold.

Anti-terrorist barricades have been set up outside thehotel. President Bush is in town for the opening of UNGeneral Assembly, so midtown is at a standstill. It’sfashion week downtown, Hurricane Ophelia hangs overthe city, and last night Young and his manager,Elliott Roberts, missed The Rolling Stones’ concert atMadison Square Garden because they were stuck in atraffic jam caused by a burning man jumping off thebridge into the Hudson River.

“This sure is a jumpin’ place,” Young remarks in hiswry, deadpan Canadian manner.

Young, who could pass in aspect and manner for areasonably prosperous Midwestern farmer, is promotinghis new record, Prairie Wind. Written quickly (somesongs in less than 20 minutes) and recorded live witha band at Roy Orbison’s old studio in Nashville, it isa collection of deeply personal heartfelt songsprompted by the death of his father, the sportsbroadcaster Scott Young, and his own brush withmortality in March, when he suffered a brain aneurysmon his way to a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductionceremony and had to undergo emergency surgery.

Whether you prefer your Neil Young rocking out withCrazy Horse in the style of Ragged Glory, in thedrug-soaked utopian nihilism of On The Beach, as thecountry rocker of After the Gold Rush or, as here, asthe singer-songwriter balladeer, Prairie Wind standsin good company with two of his acoustic-centredstand-outs, Harvest and Harvest Moon. The songs, hesays, “are about my family, my family history, life ingeneral, what’s going at the moment”.

At a benefit for victims of Hurricane Katrina thisweekend in Chicago, he plans to dust off “SouthernMan”; in a tie with “Ohio” as his most overtlypolitical, angry song.

“I haven’t played ‘Southern Man’ in years but I’mgoing to play it because I think it makes sensetoday,” he says. In the ballroom of Fortress Blair,Young’s anger is plain.

“We shouldn’t be fighting this war in Iraq,” he says.“I don’t understand why we’re there. We’re probablynot going to win anything and we’re making enemiesfaster than we can kill ’em.” And, he says, nobody’sasking the questions that make you think.

“I’d like to be a reporter for The New York Times orwherever and stand up and say: ‘Mr President, you tellus we’re in the process of liberating Iraq, and we’vehad this big disaster in New Orleans. Bangladesh gaveus $20,000 and that’s a big thing for them. So howabout our brothers we’ve liberated in Iraq? Where’sthe money from them? You tell us we’re liberating themso why don’t they care? Why don’t they support us?'”

Young leans forward. “It’s obvious to me that theydon’t support us ’cause they don’t like us. But no oneasks the questions…” Instead of government for thepeople, Young believes we are in a war being foughtbetween two fundamentalist religious groups. “The oneswe have in this country and the one in the mountainsof Pakistan, or wherever they are.”

But priority is not the war in Iraq (“war has beengoing on since the beginning of time so that’s notunusual”) rather what’s going on with the environment.“For me it’s the main story now,” he says. “But thepeople running countries these days are only payingattention to commerce and politics. They don’t seewhat’s going on right in front of them.”

In Young’s grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s timethere were still buffalo on the plains of Manitoba; onhis father’s farm the sun would be blocked out bymigrating Canada geese overhead. “It was awesome. Butnow we don’t have that.”

The birds, he says, “are a messenger to mankind. Whenyou see a horror movie and the birds leave it meanssomething very bad is coming. In nature when the birdsare depleted and they leave a whole area that meanssomething very big. It’s the kind of sign that’s loston politicians. In the old days, in the days of theIndians, the Indians would be freaking out, everybodywould be freaking out…”

A sense of space is important to the singer. It’s whathe knows, after all – in his part of Manitoba it’s soflat that you can see a grain elevator 100ft tall from60 miles away.

Young hopes the British are taking more care. Told ofthe divisiveness between town and country in the UK,he says: “Well, there are too many people in the cityand they’ve got too much power. In the city you can’tsee the sky. You can’t see the signs you can whenyou’re out in the country that things are changing. Ihope [on the issue of the Kyoto Protocol and climatechange control] Blair isn’t doing what Blair usuallydoes, which is just follow Bush around.”

But as always with ecological concern, the test is inone’s action. At home on his ranch in the PacificNorthwest, Young drives a military-issue H-1 Hn petrolthat burns bio-diesel made from vegetable oil.Depending on what crop the batch of fuel is made from– he keeps a 500-gallon tank at home – the exhaustsmells like soy or bread. Besides beingenvironmentally friendly, it’s an excellent way to getup the noses of the motoring self-righteous.

“It’s so politically incorrect it’s perfect,” he says.“You can really make an impression. People see itcoming, they hate it. They think you’re the enemy.Then it goes by and they see ‘Bio-Diesel’‘Farmed-Fuel!’ ‘Go Earth!’ written down the side andthey see it’s probably cleaner than the car they’redriving.”

Just as his nickname, Shakey, implies, Young isunpredictable. He may never have been the hippiepeacenik the hippies wanted him to be, nor the“Rockin’ in the Free World” all-American others mayhave desired. Nor, despite his status as the“godfather of grunge”, was he ever the doomed fatalistsuggested by “it’s better to burn out than fade away”,a line from “Hey Hey My My!”. He has often beenmisinterpreted, in part because he’s not prepared todismiss people he doesn’t agree with.

“The most ridiculous example I can think of is GeorgeBush, who I totally disagree with. But he’s a verysteady leader with a lot of dedication, surety andfeeling – but he’s going exactly in the wrongdirection. I wish people who felt like me had a leaderwith as much conviction.”

He also resents being pigeonholed musically. Sometimeshe’s with Crazy Horse, sometimes with Booker T and theMGs, then he’s with an organ or Hank Williams’ guitar.

“I do something until I’m worn out on it. I’ll wake upsome morning and I just don’t have it any more forwhat I’m doing. I just don’t have the spark for it, soI think OK, that’s it. So I do something else. If allI did was the same thing I’d be pretty bored.”

His old friend Bob Dylan recently gave him a copy ofGoodbye Babylon, a box collection of gospel and earlycountry roots music that he is going to be listeningto. Young and Dylan grew up within a few hundred milesof each other at about the same time. They probablylistened to the same AM radio stations, saw the samerevue shows travelling across the Midwest. He has readDylan’s recent autobiography, Chronicles, closely.

“It’s an interesting point of view,” he says. “Some ofit is incredibly funny. It’s very tongue-in-cheek. Youcan’t tell if he’s pulling your leg, making it all uplike it’s one of his songs. That’s the beauty of it.It’s always been the same with Bob. From the beginningto now, the quality of his songs is great. He’s anatural writer and craftsman, and a reflection andextension of the history of American music.”

Young has no plans to write his own memoirs. Instead,the first of several volumes documenting everything hehas ever recorded, which took 15 years to compile,will be released in the spring.

Still, it is imperative to move forward. “You can’tpretend to be the person you were 30 years ago,” hesays. “And who would want that that? You can’trecreate what you’ve already done. The people who tryto become stale caricatures of themselves.”

Instead, he tries to be true to the music. “As long asyou do that it keeps coming back. Like a wild animalyou fed once, it’ll come back and see you again. Butif you stop feeding it, and you stop paying attention,or make a lot of noise and scare the hell out it, itcertainly won’t.”

It’s his family and this kind of musical husbandry, ofbeing specifically sensitive to his gift, that keepsNeil Young going. So, is it “burn out” or “fade away”?

He says: “You can take it very literally, meaning,‘OK, it’s better to explode in a bunch of flame thanto fade away into the distance doing somethingmeaningless.’ On the other hand, burning out can takea long time…”

‘Prairie Wind’ (Reprise) is released on 3 October

“Welcome to Fortress Blair,” says Neil Young, offeringhis hand. Downstairs, in the lobby of The Carlylehotel, the Prime Minister’s security men have beendemanding to know what kind of black-clad ageinghippie revolutionary they have here. They look as ifthey might put him in a choke-hold.

Anti-terrorist barricades have been set up outside thehotel. President Bush is in town for the opening of UNGeneral Assembly, so midtown is at a standstill. It’sfashion week downtown, Hurricane Ophelia hangs overthe city, and last night Young and his manager,Elliott Roberts, missed The Rolling Stones’ concert atMadison Square Garden because they were stuck in atraffic jam caused by a burning man jumping off thebridge into the Hudson River.

“This sure is a jumpin’ place,” Young remarks in hiswry, deadpan Canadian manner.

Young, who could pass in aspect and manner for areasonably prosperous Midwestern farmer, is promotinghis new record, Prairie Wind. Written quickly (somesongs in less than 20 minutes) and recorded live witha band at Roy Orbison’s old studio in Nashville, it isa collection of deeply personal heartfelt songsprompted by the death of his father, the sportsbroadcaster Scott Young, and his own brush withmortality in March, when he suffered a brain aneurysmon his way to a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductionceremony and had to undergo emergency surgery.

Whether you prefer your Neil Young rocking out withCrazy Horse in the style of Ragged Glory, in thedrug-soaked utopian nihilism of On The Beach, as thecountry rocker of After the Gold Rush or, as here, asthe singer-songwriter balladeer, Prairie Wind standsin good company with two of his acoustic-centredstand-outs, Harvest and Harvest Moon. The songs, hesays, “are about my family, my family history, life ingeneral, what’s going at the moment”.

At a benefit for victims of Hurricane Katrina thisweekend in Chicago, he plans to dust off “SouthernMan”; in a tie with “Ohio” as his most overtlypolitical, angry song.

“I haven’t played ‘Southern Man’ in years but I’mgoing to play it because I think it makes sensetoday,” he says. In the ballroom of Fortress Blair,Young’s anger is plain.

“We shouldn’t be fighting this war in Iraq,” he says.“I don’t understand why we’re there. We’re probablynot going to win anything and we’re making enemiesfaster than we can kill ’em.” And, he says, nobody’sasking the questions that make you think.

“I’d like to be a reporter for The New York Times orwherever and stand up and say: ‘Mr President, you tellus we’re in the process of liberating Iraq, and we’vehad this big disaster in New Orleans. Bangladesh gaveus $20,000 and that’s a big thing for them. So howabout our brothers we’ve liberated in Iraq? Where’sthe money from them? You tell us we’re liberating themso why don’t they care? Why don’t they support us?'”

Young leans forward. “It’s obvious to me that theydon’t support us ’cause they don’t like us. But no oneasks the questions…” Instead of government for thepeople, Young believes we are in a war being foughtbetween two fundamentalist religious groups. “The oneswe have in this country and the one in the mountainsof Pakistan, or wherever they are.”

But priority is not the war in Iraq (“war has beengoing on since the beginning of time so that’s notunusual”) rather what’s going on with the environment.“For me it’s the main story now,” he says. “But thepeople running countries these days are only payingattention to commerce and politics. They don’t seewhat’s going on right in front of them.”

In Young’s grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s timethere were still buffalo on the plains of Manitoba; onhis father’s farm the sun would be blocked out bymigrating Canada geese overhead. “It was awesome. Butnow we don’t have that.”

The birds, he says, “are a messenger to mankind. Whenyou see a horror movie and the birds leave it meanssomething very bad is coming. In nature when the birdsare depleted and they leave a whole area that meanssomething very big. It’s the kind of sign that’s loston politicians. In the old days, in the days of theIndians, the Indians would be freaking out, everybodywould be freaking out…”

A sense of space is important to the singer. It’s whathe knows, after all – in his part of Manitoba it’s soflat that you can see a grain elevator 100ft tall from60 miles away.Young hopes the British are taking more care. Told ofthe divisiveness between town and country in the UK,he says: “Well, there are too many people in the cityand they’ve got too much power. In the city you can’tsee the sky. You can’t see the signs you can whenyou’re out in the country that things are changing. Ihope [on the issue of the Kyoto Protocol and climatechange control] Blair isn’t doing what Blair usuallydoes, which is just follow Bush around.”

But as always with ecological concern, the test is inone’s action. At home on his ranch in the PacificNorthwest, Young drives a military-issue H-1 Hn petrolthat burns bio-diesel made from vegetable oil.Depending on what crop the batch of fuel is made from– he keeps a 500-gallon tank at home – the exhaustsmells like soy or bread. Besides beingenvironmentally friendly, it’s an excellent way to getup the noses of the motoring self-righteous.

“It’s so politically incorrect it’s perfect,” he says.“You can really make an impression. People see itcoming, they hate it. They think you’re the enemy.Then it goes by and they see ‘Bio-Diesel’‘Farmed-Fuel!’ ‘Go Earth!’ written down the side andthey see it’s probably cleaner than the car they’redriving.”

Just as his nickname, Shakey, implies, Young isunpredictable. He may never have been the hippiepeacenik the hippies wanted him to be, nor the“Rockin’ in the Free World” all-American others mayhave desired. Nor, despite his status as the“godfather of grunge”, was he ever the doomed fatalistsuggested by “it’s better to burn out than fade away”,a line from “Hey Hey My My!”. He has often beenmisinterpreted, in part because he’s not prepared todismiss people he doesn’t agree with.

“The most ridiculous example I can think of is GeorgeBush, who I totally disagree with. But he’s a verysteady leader with a lot of dedication, surety andfeeling – but he’s going exactly in the wrongdirection. I wish people who felt like me had a leaderwith as much conviction.”

He also resents being pigeonholed musically. Sometimeshe’s with Crazy Horse, sometimes with Booker T and theMGs, then he’s with an organ or Hank Williams’ guitar.

“I do something until I’m worn out on it. I’ll wake upsome morning and I just don’t have it any more forwhat I’m doing. I just don’t have the spark for it, soI think OK, that’s it. So I do something else. If allI did was the same thing I’d be pretty bored.”

His old friend Bob Dylan recently gave him a copy ofGoodbye Babylon, a box collection of gospel and earlycountry roots music that he is going to be listeningto. Young and Dylan grew up within a few hundred milesof each other at about the same time. They probablylistened to the same AM radio stations, saw the samerevue shows travelling across the Midwest. He has readDylan’s recent autobiography, Chronicles, closely.

“It’s an interesting point of view,” he says. “Some ofit is incredibly funny. It’s very tongue-in-cheek. Youcan’t tell if he’s pulling your leg, making it all uplike it’s one of his songs. That’s the beauty of it.It’s always been the same with Bob. From the beginningto now, the quality of his songs is great. He’s anatural writer and craftsman, and a reflection andextension of the history of American music.”

Young has no plans to write his own memoirs. Instead,the first of several volumes documenting everything hehas ever recorded, which took 15 years to compile,will be released in the spring.

Still, it is imperative to move forward. “You can’tpretend to be the person you were 30 years ago,” hesays. “And who would want that that? You can’trecreate what you’ve already done. The people who tryto become stale caricatures of themselves.”

Instead, he tries to be true to the music. “As long asyou do that it keeps coming back. Like a wild animalyou fed once, it’ll come back and see you again. Butif you stop feeding it, and you stop paying attention,or make a lot of noise and scare the hell out it, itcertainly won’t.”

It’s his family and this kind of musical husbandry, ofbeing specifically sensitive to his gift, that keepsNeil Young going. So, is it “burn out” or “fade away”?

He says: “You can take it very literally, meaning,‘OK, it’s better to explode in a bunch of flame thanto fade away into the distance doing somethingmeaningless.’ On the other hand, burning out can takea long time…”